


Puzzled

by Waywardwiz



Category: How I Met Your Mother
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 11:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11103543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywardwiz/pseuds/Waywardwiz
Summary: Rare pair time! It's Carl and Ted because I think they have some great interactions, especially that thing with "we can't just be friends, we're attracted to each other!". I mean, I know that Ted was talking to Tracy, but the look on Carl's face...Okay, but the plot. Ted is supposed to meet with a girl at MacLaren's but she doesn't show. He and Carl starts talking and that leads to thing-doing. Rated Explicit for later chapters. Fair warning, the first chapter is a major downer." “Ted”, Carl says, a hint of warning in his voice, but Ted ignores it because he is too drunk to understand such subtle hints and opts instead to take Carl’s face in his hand and press their mouth together rough and inelegant. He feels rather than sees Carl tense up against him, hears harsh breathing against his ear when he removes his lips from Carl’s and instead takes his effort to his neck, just beneath the hairline, where he kisses and licks messily"





	Puzzled

**Sleep It Off**

Ted hasn’t really been alone at MacLaren’s before. Sure he has sat at the booth many times during the day, eating lunch, grading papers, reading before the establishment became crowded during evening. But seeing as he is always joined by one or more of his friends, he has never had this particular experience of leaving his table by the door (alone he can’t justify occupying the group’s usual booth) to go and order _one_ beer. But he does so anyway, manoeuvring around furniture with a rising sense of dismay. The bartender knows him and his gang well enough to know that it is pretty unusual to see Ted alone in the bar at this hour and he might ask question as to why. Ted isn’t sure he can handle that, however well-meaning, but he needs something to take away the parchedness of his throat. Preferably something decidedly alcoholic to keep the multiple drinks settling in the pit of his stomach company.

Upon arrival he leans heavily against the bar, enjoying the feeling of the cool, sturdy oak against his fingers. He is feeling awfully hot for some reason. Have they turned up the heat in here, or is it just him? He is just about to open his mouth and place an order, having gotten the bartender’s attention, but before he can do so Carl steps through the door separating the main room from the kitchen.  
“Hi Ted” he says, smiling brightly, “what’d you like?”  
The other bartender slinks away, disappearing into the kitchen after having gotten a nod of confirmation from Carl that he will take over the front (probably. Ted isn’t quite up to the current bar lingo even though he has briefly been the proud co-owner of _Puzzle)._  
He forces a smile of his own, settling his expression into one of detached friendliness as to not alert Carl to his pathetic lack of company. From the flicker of Carl’s eyes to the empty space around him Ted knows that he hasn’t succeeded, but the other man doesn’t comment on it for which Ted is grateful.  
“Beer me, barkeep” he says as lightly as possibly, his own voice sounding grating and fake to his ears.

“Beering up” Carl’s laughter is genuine and contagious, making Ted smile more earnestly almost against his will. The two of them have never been that close but what can pass for playful banter comes easily to them and more so when it’s just the two of them. Carl doesn’t even need to ask which kind of beer Ted wants, he already knows after having served him and the others more times than Ted could ever hope to count. When he finally gets his mouth on the delicious foaminess of his beverage, all feels right with the world. For a second. Because then Carl asked the dreaded question, “you here alone?”  
His eyes are kind and his smile is soft but the words still stings, a jab to Ted’s sense of vanity.  
“Yeah” he says hesitantly and then, for some reason he cannot explain other than him feeling strangely comfortable around Carl, he continues, “I’ve been stood up”  
“A girl?”

Ted’s eyebrows knit together as he frowns slightly, his pursuit to get obscenely drunk postponed. The question confuses him. As if Carl has ever seen him with anyone other than a steady string of girls. But he pushes it down into the space he saves for all his other anxieties and nods slowly, “her name’s Maria. Lawyer, loves dog and Annie Hall. I met her at a bus stop, she seemed sweet, you know?” he chuckles, a dry and humourless sound, “I guess she had better things to do tonight than me”. He realizes after a few seconds how his last words might have come off but Carl says nothing of it. Ted looks up slowly, tearing his gaze away from Carl’s hands resting on the table. It’s weird seeing Carl being still, he’s always fiddling with something – glasses, the tabs, his registry – when working. His focus is entirely on Ted in a way so intense and singular it makes a shiver run down Ted’s spine. He has never realized how dark Carl’s eyes are and in a long, weird moment he sort of wishes he had written down the number Carl had put on his arm that night of the Pineapple Incident – ‘If lost please call' – “Whose number is that?” – “I don't know” – and his face flushes at the thought because why would he want Carl’s number for any purpose that involves those large hands, slightly tanned, calloused in just the right way – _okay, stop, you’re not even that drunk_.

“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on” Carl says and Ted is stunned speechless at these kind words. He just stares at Carl for a few too many seconds in stupefied silence while the other man waits patiently for a response, scrubbing down the bar while he does so, without taking his eyes off of Ted. He looks so calm, like he hasn’t just given Ted one of the nicest compliments he has ever received in his life. He feels even warmer now than before and just hopes that he doesn’t look too flustered , but he feels the heat creeping into his face.  
“Thanks” he finally replies, “that’s… I think I needed that”. He takes a tentative sip of his beer, briefly considering fishing out one of the ice cubes and putting it on his neck or cheeks.  
Carl smiles again, that easy, sincere, somehow quirky thing and Ted finds his mouth running because suddenly he wants that smile to stay (it makes his chest feel lighter and heavier at the same time), “I mean it’s not like I really knew her, it’s just, it isn’t nice, is it? We were supposed to meet here an hour ago – you know, you’ve got the cosy atmosphere down here, Carl” – Carl laughs at this, loud and cheerful and delighted, then nods, urging Ted to continue. “I wish I’d gotten her number, she told me her name so that we could talk on Facebook, but then again, I probably wouldn’t have called her, I’m more into passive aggressive text and big speeches on faith. Now that I think of it, you’ve undoubtedly heard a few of them, haven’t you?” his lips curve upwards at the sides. He takes a big gulp of his drink, “God, this is good beer”.

“I’m glad” Carl says, “wouldn’t want to lose one of my regulars over a bad brew. You and your friends pay half my mortgage in this place all by yourself”. He is trying to sound serious but his eyes are shining and he is clearly amused by their situation. Ted plays along because now he has decided that likes Carl’s eyes as well as his smile, “give us fifteen more years and we’ll have put your kids through college”, he glances at the beer in his hand, tilted precariously, “starting tonight”.  
“I don’t have any but I do appreciate the gesture” Carl says. He puts away the washcloth and starts on making himself a mojito with the practiced ease of someone who has done it so many times before and while he serves another costumer, Ted wonders what those hands would feel like against his bare skin. His beer is mostly gone by now – when did that happen – and it’s starting to get to him. His thoughts are going in a dozen different directions, each one dirtier than the one before and they all serve to make him light-headed. He is torn out of his daze when Carl calls out to everyone in the bar, “alright, we’re closing for the night! You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here”.  
Some affronted customer says “but it’s only 9:30!”  
“Then find some other bar” Carl retorts, not even granting him a look. Instead he grins widely at Ted. Ted manages to tear his eyes away from the bartender only to see the guy who spoke make an obscene gesture with his hand and stride out the door in a huff. The rest of the customers leave in a more sedated manner, most waving to them, wishing them a good night and thanking Carl for excellent service. Then he ducks into the kitchen and sends his employees home for the night.

When the door closes for the last time Ted turns back towards Carl, puzzlement written all over his face, “why did you do that?”  
“Do what?”  
“You only close the bar on… never? There was that snow storm night, but otherwise I’ve never heard you say those words. Hell, I’ve heard Barney say them. But never you”. His mind is sort of blown to the point where he barely registers Carl’s question.  
“Huh?”  
“I said, when did Barney say them?”  
“As I said, the snow storm night. We invited that marching band – what were they called? Oh yeah, the Hens – into the bar because we wanted to get with two of its’ girls. One of them was super into Star Wars, I called dibs. We babysat your bar and we promised that we would only let the girls in and then leave but instead we…”.  
His words come to an abrupt stop as he realizes that Carl has never heard that story before. He can’t read the look on the other man’s face at first and he tenses up in worry – he has seen Carl’s anger before and it’s a frightful thing – until his shoulders abruptly relaxes when the bartender laughs and says, eyes bright, “I seem to remember that promise, yes”.  
“I’m sorry” Ted says earnestly, “not one of our finer moments. If it helps any I can tell you that _Puzzles_ totally tanked”.  
Fittingly, Carl’s forehead wrinkles in bewilderment, “ _Puzzles_?”  
“Yeah, that was our bar. Or well, your bar, for a short time” Ted chuckles, “you wanna ask me something?”  
“why was it called _Puzzles_?” Carl asks indulgently, seemingly happy to play along.  
“That’s the – “  
“Puzzle, right”

Ted chuckles and reaches for the beer Carl has procured for him from seemingly out of nowhere (it probably came from the tab when he wasn’t looking – he’s getting rather drunk, he ought to slow down, but he doesn’t, this must be his fifth or something, counting the ones he had while waiting for his no-show date). After a dozen big gulps he hands back the empty mug to the bartender. A comfortable heat starts spreading throughout his body and he suddenly forgets what he was feeling sad about – _Maria who?_ – but Carl is looking concerned. And so, when Ted asks for another beer, he shakes his head and says, gently but firm, “sorry, I’m cutting you off”  
“Ah, Bro, no” Ted protests. His voice sounds thick to his own ears but he’s _fine_ , “I haven’t had that many”  
“I didn’t know we were on Bro-basis” Carl says but he is smiling at him, “and sure you haven’t. So that stuff you’ve been pouring down your poor throat for the last sixty minutes was what, lemonade?”  
“Ah…”  
“I thought so. You’re done for tonight, Ted”

Carl leaves for a few moments – just long enough for Ted to wonder where he went – before returning with his jacket on and keys in hand, “and I’m taking you home”  
Wanting to make a joke about an implied meaning of those words but coming up short, Ted willingly lets Carl hoist him from his stool and to his feet, which seem to be shifting in size. Now that he thinks of it, the proportions of all the furniture in the room look wrong too. Except for Carl, he stands out in the fog like a lighthouse, all safe-harbour eyes and wide, sturdy shoulders and large hands, hands that are holding him up, steadying him. Together they leave the bar, stepping into the brisk night air. Ted cranes back his neck, looking up at the dark sky, peppered with a shower of silvery stars. Being able to witness their brightness like this is rare; either the clouds cover them or the shine of the city lights dulls them into dusky obscurity.  
“Ted? Are you feeling alright?” Carl asks and Ted reluctantly tears his gaze away from the stars. Then he’s glad he did because Carl’s eyes are just as good as stars.

“You have good eyes” he observes intelligently, a sluggish half-smile dragging at the corners of his mouth, and then it grows wider because Carl snorts in a chuckle-y sort of way and grabs Ted by his arm, long fingers digging into the blue fabric of his jacket.  
“That’s nice” he says, traces of happiness crinkling at the corner of his eyes, “you have… well, kinda, let’s say foggy eyes. But still nice”

Ted giggles as he tips forward, straight into Carl’s personal space and then some. He slurs against the other man’s neck, the feel of warm skin against his mouth making his lips all tingly, “you said fuck-y”  
“God you’re drunk” Carl says as he carefully moves Ted’s head  into a more comfortable position against his shoulder. _Broad shoulder_ , Ted thinks as he grabs onto one with of them firmly, _this is nice_  
“Up the stairs, come on, buddy, careful” the other man instructs gently while maintaining a firm hold of Ted who would otherwise be tilting dangerously. Every step up the stairs is a trial, and then Ted has to find the key and where is his pocket?  
“Carl” he says in a decisive manner, straightening his back as well as he can manage in his state of inebriety, “I can- cannot find the key, methinks we’re gonna have to break the door down – not to worry, I know Hokkaido, all the things with kicks”  
He lifts his leg in what is supposed to be some kind of sophisticated fighting stance but in retrospect probably just looks extremely ridiculous. Before he can go all Son Goku on the poor door Carl hastily says, “Hokkaido is a pumpkin. And some other time, maybe. Aren’t Lily and Marshall home?”  
“No, they’re at … They had a thing” Ted shakes his head and then pouts, “you don’t believe I have the karate chops?”  
“I believe you have all the chops, Mosby” Carl says, voice light with laughter, “but for now just let me find the keys, okay?”

“Okay” Ted mutters and is then instantly surprised when Carl’s hands start slipping over his torso, patting at his sides in his search for the keys. He pokes a hand into one pocket, then another and a third before he finally finds what he is looking for. Ted sniggers  drunkenly, swaying this way and that, and says, “dude, you could at least have brought me a drink before feeling me up”  
Carl rolls his eyes higher than any human being has ever done, before fitting the key in the lock and turning the handle. He pushes open the door and half leads, half hauls Ted into the space of his living room. He closes it behind them with a kick of his boot as both his arms are occupied with keeping Ted in an upright position.

Ted is utterly transfixed by the slight movement of Carl’s mouth as he speaks. He suddenly gets a great idea, perhaps the greatest idea he has ever had (well, apart from _Puzzles_ , and that’s his and Barney’s shared vision); “we should totally have sex, Carl!”  
Carl’s mouth stops moving, lips parted in a startled circle, dark eyes wide and baffled. Ted’s gaze slips to the other man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs nervously in his throat, and Ted wants to put his mouth on the long column of Carl’s neck, no, _needs_ to, and right now. His body feels hot all over and he might just die (drunk Ted is dramatic Ted) if something doesn’t happen soon. Carl, being very unhelpful, is just standing there with that startled expression on his face, left hand still on Ted’s arm, and it’s nice but Ted would much rather have that hand on his chest, his hips, his -  
  
“Ted”, Carl says, a hint of warning in his voice, but Ted ignores it because he is too drunk to understand such subtle hints and opts instead to take Carl’s face in his hand and press their mouth together rough and inelegant. He feels rather than sees Carl tense up against him, hears harsh breathing against his ear when he removes his lips from Carl’s and instead takes his effort to his neck, just beneath the hairline, where he kisses and licks messily. He wraps his arms around the other man and sucks a bruise into warm skin, trying with his hands and mouth to coax the bartender into action. But Carl might as well be rooted to the spot. He is shaking and unresponsive but for faint moans that slip out between his clenched teeth and the thought that it shouldn’t be like this pierces the daze in Ted’s mind, sharp and unwelcome like a bucket of icy water poured over ones’ head. Reluctantly he lets go of Carl and takes a step back. The quick movement combined with his drunken state almost causes him to stumble but he manages to catch himself against the armrest of the couch. He looks up at Carl who is just standing there, face closed off and hands clenched at his sides, breath coming too quickly. Carl closes his eyes for a few seconds like he is trying to compose himself. Silence stretches between him. Ted is all too aware of the arousal pooling low in his belly and he tries to will it away, to clear his head, because this isn’t fun anymore. He basically just assaulted Carl, and though his nether regions haven’t caught up yet, his mind feels dull with quiet terror.

“Carl” he manages, retreating behind the couch as to avoid crowding his friend (are they friends? somehow the answer seems important), “I’m sorry, I – “  
“No, Ted” Carl holds up a hand, effectively shutting Ted up, “it’s alright. You’re drunk, it’s not your fault”  
That sends Ted’s mind reeling because _of course it is his fault_ , “but it is, I’m so sorry, I don’t know where that came from, I swear”  
There is a strange light in Carl’s eyes, almost distant. His mouth twitches like he is trying to force a smile. It looks painful and doesn’t reach his eyes. He says, “Don’t. We’re good, Ted, don’t worry about it”  
Ted doesn’t know how to react to this detached and weirdly polite version of Carl. He thinks that he would rather have him be angry, that way he would have a list of ways to make things better.  
“Carl” he says but is once again interrupted when Carl asks, voice curiously soft, “can you get into bed yourself, or do you need my help?”  
Ted’s vision is still kind of fuzzy but he is pretty sure he can manage, so he says, “I think, but – “  
“Good. Then sleep it off, bro”  
“Okay” murmurs Ted, and he feels like he has been punched in his gut.  
Carl has given up on a smile. He nods once, tersely, turns around and slips out the door, pulling it shut with an air of finality.  
Lips still tingling from that kiss he took without asking Ted flops down onto the sofa and hides his head in his hands, elbows resting against his knees. A dull and persistent headache has started to form behind his eyes and he is pretty sure that if he attempts moving to his room he might vomit. So he kicks off his shoes and rids himself of his coat before pulling his legs up onto the cushion. He is glad Lily and Marshall won’t be home until tomorrow night. They would be so disappointed with him, especially Marshall. His moral compass has always been leagues above Ted’s own. He might yell at him. Not to say that Ted doesn’t deserve being yelled at but right now he feels like his skull might split in two and he just wants to sleep. He can hate himself tomorrow.


End file.
